


Fade to Black

by steveelotaku



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Exhaustion, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Salty Reaper, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveelotaku/pseuds/steveelotaku
Summary: Gabriel Reyes is having a bad day. A hack director is making a slasher movie cashing in on his pain and suffering. Sombra, though, has a plan.If she can ever stop drooling over him.(A fic I wrote ages ago for a friend who shipped this. Finally posting it.)





	Fade to Black

                “And coming this Friday, after months of secrecy, director ‘Illin’’ Dan Sturmrache’s latest horror masterpiece is hitting theatres— _Reaper._   Inspired by the sadistic mass-murderer, it claims to tell the true story of Reaper—a bitter secret agent left for dead, now slaughtering his way through countless innocents—“

-BLAM-

                A smoking gun’s glowing barrel fading from orange to grey was the only light in the room.  In an armchair sat Gabriel Reyes, the man now known as Reaper, a broken whiskey glass in his hand and a glowering, irritated expression on his face.

                “ _Dios mio,_ Reyes,” muttered a voice from the other side of the room.  “That’s our fifth TV you’ve broken.”

**_“Sombra…”_ **

                The purple-haired hacker stepped out of the shadows and switched on a lamp. 

                “You can’t let them get to you like that.  It’s probably going to suck anyway.  Illin’ Dan hasn’t made a good film since _The Burning Crusade_ , you know.  Did you hear _Legion_ tanked at the box office?”

**_“It doesn’t matter.  It’s my reputation.  It’s the one good part of my life I have left and I’m watching some pendejo tear up the last of my innocence on screen.  And from what I can tell this Reaper won’t even be targeting Overwatch.  I’ve seen the posters.  I’ve got this ridiculous, flaming shotgun with four barrels and a hooked chain and I’m standing over a screaming, half-naked teenage girl, about to rip her guts out.”_ **

                Sombra began to play the trailer on her phone.

                “He was betrayed.  Left for dead.  Special Forces soldier Johnny Grim had lost everything.  A failed medical experiment turned him into—“

                The screen was splattered with blood, which somehow set on fire, revealing the logo.

                “REAPER.”

                The trailer showed some quick scenes of “Reaper” gutting teenagers, leaping off of rooftops, and breaking the necks of police officers and gang members alike.

                “REAPER,” the trailer announcer repeated.  “This summer, it’s TIME TO REAP.”

 ** _“Put that away if you want to keep your arm,”_** Reyes growled, distinctly annoyed.

                Sombra shrugged and shoved it in her pocket.

                “What do you want me to do about it?” she asked.  “I could try blocking the film from release, but half the internet has already bootlegged it.”

 ** _“We’ll see how it goes,”_** Reyes sighed.  **_“But if things get worse for me, I’m going to pay Illin’ Dan a visit.”_**

                “I’d say just sue him, but I don’t think dead people can be legally represented,” Sombra quipped.

**_“SOMBRA.”_ **

                Sombra knew that when Gabriel got like this, it was best to just give him space.  Walking off down the hallway back to her room, she sighed.  It really wasn’t fair to him.  Sure, he did monstrous things, and she was no saint herself, but…

                Beneath that skeletal mask, once you looked past his criminal behavior, there was still a man under there.  On a good day, you could still see the hero he’d once been staring back at you.  Even on a mission, he would throw himself in harm’s way constantly to back her and Widowmaker up.  Maybe part of it was suicidal tendencies, but there had definitely been times where he’d stood nothing to gain and just soaked up gunfire for her.

                “Gabriel…what can I do for you?” she wondered, pitching back on her bed.

                In the distant silence, she swore she could hear a muffled sound of crying…crying without tears.

\--

                Amelie Lacroix knocked on the door to the living room.

**_“Leave me.”_ **

                “Gabriel?  I had heard you were upset,” she spoke, calmly.  “Is there something you want to talk about?”

                It was a level tone, almost void of emotion.  The woman known to all as Widowmaker gave a cold impression, as if her body and soul were a glass spider.  No heartbeat seemed to show in that pale purple skin, and almost no sign of a soul flared in her eyes.

                Almost none.

                For once, she too had felt.  Had loved.  And while now she was a cold, emotionless killer…

                …deep down, she had never forgotten totally what it meant to feel.

                “Gabriel, mon ami, please.  I know you want to be alone, but I don’t think you should be.  You know how you get when—“

**_“I forget my medication, is that it?  What good is it?  It’s almost just a placebo, something to keep my rotting corpse from making me faint.  Talon’s little pat on the back for me.  I used to hope, maybe, that one day they’d tell me of a cure.  You know what they told me the other week?  Keep working for them, and maybe they’ll up my dosage.  I’m on the fucking council, and you know what?  No sign of a cure.  Maybe it’ll hurt a little less if I torch an orphanage and make Jack cry.  But even I am not naïve to believe that it’s Talon doing this.  Because behind every shadowy organization is another shadowy organization, and what’s behind that is usually a pathetic man who just wants a bigger slice of the pie.  Tell me, Amelie…if you had the chance to kill me, would you?  You could be the leader, after all…”_ **

                “I am not a leader.  I will never be.  I am a weapon.  And I would kill you, but not for the reason you think.  Because I love you, as much as I can care for anyone.  Spiders always kill the ones they love…”

**_“God, Amelie.  Can you say one thing without a spider metaphor?”_ **

                “One thing without a spider metaphor,” she repeated, with the ghost of a smile on her face.

 ** _“You little shit,”_** Reyes laughed, a dark chuckle emanating from the room as he began to choke and gargle.

                Immediately, she raced in and got a pan.

                “Lean over and spit it out,” she commanded.  “Keep coughing til the blood’s gone.”

**_“You act like this is the first time the roof of my mouth’s fallen apart on me.”_ **

                “I act like this because I care, bonehead.”

**_“Bonehead.  Cute.  You getting all your pet names for me from Sombra?”_ **

                Amelie sighed.

                “Maybe if you were less of a bonehead you’d see the way she looks at you.”

                Gabriel finished spitting out the remains of his broken jaw and grimaced as he felt it reknit itself.  The scars on his face glowed with infection that soon healed as well.  For a moment, he saw his bloodshot, glowing eyes in the metal of the pan, and sighed.

**_“Like people look at a train wreck.”_ **

                “Only if you mean that she can’t take her eyes off of you.  She doesn’t find you hard to look at.  Most people only can stand to see you masked.  Not her.”

                Gabriel Reyes sighed even louder.

                **_“I’m not worth looking at.  And now, I’m sitting here with a movie coming out mocking me, and ensuring that for once in my life, everyone is going to be staring at my face.  Not the face I want, though.  Would that this face you see here_ were _worth looking at, like it once was.  Now?  All people see…”_**

He took his mask and pressed it on, it clicking into place and hissing as it tightened.

                **_“…is the Reaper’s face, coming for their souls.”_**

Widowmaker made a gagging noise.

                “You need to stop being so melodramatic.  And that’s coming from me.”

                The tall French woman began to leave, but Gabriel coughed.

                She turned.

                “Yes?”

                **_“Thank you.”_**

**_\--_ **

“Hey.  Sombra.”               

                “Ugh…Amelie…what time is it…”

                “3 PM.  You’ve slept late again.  I keep telling you those energy drinks will only make you crash.”

                Sombra sighed.

                “I was up all night thinking about stuff.”

                “And by stuff, you mean Reaper, right?”

                Sombra’s cheeks turned a bit pink before she turned away.

                “N-no! I mean, yes, but…”

                “ _Cherie_ , you can tell me if you’ve got a thing for him.  I mean, I already know.”

                The hacker curled up a bit.

                “Alright.  So I think Gabe is cute.  Your point?”

                “My point,” the French woman smirked, “is that you’ve got an uphill battle.  He’s frosty and cold.  He’s a professional.  He rarely jokes.  He’s good at plans.  Every second of his life is calculated.  He does nothing without purpose.  You?  You’re a joker, no offense.  And incidentally, he hates being called Gabe.”

                “I know.  It’s why I call him it,” Sombra smiled in response. 

                “Anyway, you can forget dating him, _cherie_. He’s out of your league.”

                “I’m guessing you think you’re closer.”

                Amelie huffed.

                “Don’t be absurd.  Reaper and I are fellow agents.  Nothing more.”

                “I never see you look at anyone else, ‘cept maybe Tracer—“

                “I don’t date.”

                “Why?”

                “The last man I loved was my husband.  I murdered him in cold blood and now the only thing I ever see of love is his gravestone once a year, usually in the pouring rain, right around Christmas.  But clearly, I just need to go have a one night stand with a cowboy like you do.”

                “I didn’t sleep with McCree, for the last time!’

                “Good, because that’d be really weird, cradle-robbing Reaper.  You know he was like an adopted kid to him when he was in Overwatch, right?”

                “I _know…_ is it weird I find the idea of daddy Gabe absolutely adorable?”

                “…no.”

                **_“Widowmaker. Sombra.  Come here, please,”_** echoed Reaper’s voice from a nearby intercom.

                “We had best go,” Amelie said to Sombra.

                “ _Ay carumba,_ this early?”

                “It’s not that early.”

                They arrived to find Reaper in the kitchenette, looking grimly over a pot of stew.

                **_“I have been simmering this stew for five hours now.  I wanted to try my hand at something nice and spicy.  However, because my tongue fell out two hours prior and is busily reknitting itself to my jaw, I can’t eat it yet.  I need to know if the spice is alright.  So, I was hoping you two could taste it for me.”_**

Widowmaker’s face lit up.  She had an idea.

                “Gabriel, is it okay if I take a pass?  I think something was wrong with some cheese I ate last night.  My stomach isn’t settling well around spicy food.”

                **_“Sombra, what about you?”_**

“You know I’m always down for spicy,” Sombra smirked, looking into Reaper’s mask with a smile. 

                She took a spoon, carefully portioned out a tiny amount, and tasted it.  She didn’t quite realize it, but she was doing it very slowly and intently, her eyes unable to break from the dark voids of Gabriel’s mask.  She tasted it fully, swallowing a mouthful of pork and beans, the pleasant qualities of the jalapenos leaving a familiar, comforting burning sensation on her tongue.

                “You’re just hot enough, Gabe.” Sombra said, smiling, not aware of what she’d just said.

                Amelie stifled a laugh.

                **_“I beg your pardon, Sombra?”_**

“I said it’s just hot enough, Gabe—“

                **_“No, you said ‘you’re just hot enough’.  I asked about the stew.  And for the love of God, don’t call me Gabe.”_**

“The stew’s fine,” Sombra replied, embarrassed.  “It’s got just enough heat.”

                **_“Are you sure?”_** Reaper asked, mockingly.  **_“You’re turning a bit red.  Are you sure I didn’t go overboard?”_**

“I-It’s fine, papi—I…oh _dios mio hijo de puta I’m leaving._ ”

                Sombra bolted from the room, turning redder and redder with each step.

                **_“Well, that was interesting.”_**

A dark chuckle echoed through the room as he finished stirring the stew.

                “She loves you,” Amelie stated.

                **_“Love...such heroic nonsense.”_**

“We were heroes once,” Amelie sighed, softly.  “We knew love, didn’t we?  Loved…and were loved.”

                **_“’Loved and were loved.’  I never did like that poem.”_**

“Hit too close to home?”

                **_“I can’t die and anyone who loved me is long gone.  Do the math, Amelie.”_**

Amelie sighed more irritably.

                “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…don’t break her heart, Gabriel.  Please.  She’s been alone all her life.  That’s all she’s ever had to lose. Her life.  No family, no home, just technology and gangs. We had good lives once.  We’ve only had as much as we deserve.  As much as I loathe her flippant tone and unprofessional behavior, she’s never had a normal life like we did.”

                **_“You call this normal?”_**

“Not this.  What we once were.”

                **_“What we once were died long ago.”_**

The faintest hint of a tear sparkled in Amelie’s eye before turning away.

                “I know…”

                **_“We can eat later, if you’re not feeling hungry.”_**

“I think that’s for the best.”

                Gabriel Reyes watched her leave, his mask once more presenting no sign of emotion.

                Underneath, however, he felt a tooth fall out slightly before pushing itself back in.

                When he could be certain she was gone, he walked into the bathroom, pulled off his mask, and stared for a long time in the mirror.  He felt his eyes being cast downward into the sink, unwilling to meet his own reflection face to face.  When he forced himself to look, he shivered.

                A pale, ghostly face looked back at him, the flesh flayed in places, scars and staples fused with his flesh, pulsating and glistening with infection.  Bone was visible in several places, nerves showed under paper-thing skin in patches around his hairline.  His hair itself was stringy and lifeless, not that he’d ever kept much in the way of hair to begin with.  His beard, once dark and rugged, was now a pale imitation of what it had once been, cast in the same shade of ghostly white that the rest of his skin matched.  He could still see recent scars where his jaw had begun to separate from his face. 

                He couldn’t look any longer.  Turning off the light, he started to leave…

                Only to see the reflection of his burning, hateful eyes in the darkness.

                With a snarl he slammed one gauntlet through the mirror, filling his hand with broken glass.  He began to weep bitterly.  The acid tears of his eyes ran down his cheeks, filling with the same unearthly glow of his eyes, like lava flowing down the sides of a volcano.

                **_“This is my curse…”_**

Sombra heard the glass shatter and immediately ran into the room, knocking on the bathroom door.

                “Reaper?  What’s going on?  Are you okay?”

**_“I’m fine. Leave me.”_ **

“Like hell you are!”

                **_“Sombra, as your superior, I order you to—“_**

“To hell with your rank, Reaper!  You’re not okay, so let me in!”

                **_“SOMBRA.”_**

“Don’t you ‘SOMBRA’ me, Gabe!  I’m coming in!”

                The door was an older one, no digital locking mechanism, just a simple deadbolt.  Sombra was a slight woman, but even without her cyborg enhancements, she’d always had one hell of a kick.  Charging forward, she whipped around and shattered the door, stepping into the bathroom as she turned on the light.

                She found an unmasked Reaper crouched over, shadowy blood pouring from his hand, and bloody tears in his eyes.

                “Get in the shower,” Sombra stated.  “I need to patch you up.”

                **_“I’ll heal.”_**

“Not with how you’re freaking out still.”

                **_“Nothing can kill me.  I’ll be fine.”_**

Sombra grew frustrated and slapped him.

                “Gabe!  Wake up!  You are not fine!  When was the last time you just took some time to yourself and cleaned up?  When was the last time you did something other than let yourself rot?  I know everything sucks lately, with the movie, and how you can’t die, and how you’ve lost everything…”

                **_“It’s a long list,”_** Reyes snarked. **_“And if I hadn’t needed that slap, you’d have regretted it.”_**

As if to break the tension, his jaw fell off.

                **_“AARGHNSISHSOJGENGOAJGOWNGG.”_**

“Shower. Now.”

                Reaper nodded, and let Sombra gently reattach his jaw.  Her touch was dexterous and gentle—almost like a surgeon’s.  The same precision she used to hack and rewire technology was evident in the way she let the muscles reconnect, the bones set.

                “I’m going to run the water hot and let you soak for a while.  I’ll leave for a bit.  You can call me when you’re ready.  I’ll leave you some clothes outside the door.”

                **_“Might be a bad idea.  Last time I soaked too long I fell apart.”_**

“The heat will numb your pain a bit.”

                **_“Alright.  I suppose five minutes won’t hurt.  I’ll even use that fancy soap you got me last Christmas.”_**

“Please take care of yourself, _compadre._  I know it hurts…”

                **_“Muchos gracias, Sombra…”_**

Sombra left to go fetch an outfit for him, pausing only a moment.

                “Hey Gabe, are you going out on a mission tonight?”

                **_“No.”_**

“Something casual to wear, then?”

                **_“Sure.”_**

Sombra went over to Gabriel’s room and stepped inside. The door had been left unlocked.  She had rarely been anywhere near his room, chiefly because the man liked his privacy.  However, stepping inside, she could see why.

                There were claw marks down several walls, ripped Overwatch banners hanging from the ceiling, and at the centre of everything, a framed Overwatch photo, covered in dust.  A smashed hand mirror lay on his night table.  A gun rack sat open, several shotguns lying inside.  His closet, a gigantic thing made of beautifully carved oak, sat wide open, a flickering lightbulb inside illuminating racks of hooded coats, gauntlets, and masks.  A chest of drawers inside sat open, revealing a wide assortment of hoodies, sweaters, and jeans.

                Selecting a few grey clothes, something neutral, she looked through the closet a bit more before shutting the door.

                “He has a sad wardrobe,” she mused.

                It was then she noticed the fallen Overwatch hoodie on the ground.

                She took it up in her hands and felt it gently.  She smelled it—there was a scent of cologne and gunpowder.  Then, she sadly put it away.

                “You were a good man, weren’t you, Gabe?”

                Leaving the clothes outside the bathroom door, she sighed gently.

                “They’re there when you need them, Gabriel.”

                **_“I’m almost finished.  Get yourself a bowl of the stew and I’ll meet you at the dinner table.  I want to talk and eat with you alone for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”_**

“I’ll be at the table, Gabriel.”

                So Sombra went off, filled a bowl with the stew, and waited alone at the dinner table.  It was a dark, lonely room, mechanically gothic.  Candles flickered on the walls and on the dinner table, but the flames were holographic, artificial.   The light they provided gave no warmth, and the wallpaper was nothing more than bare metal, painted with an intricate design.  It had only a superficial quality of culture to it; it was a desperate attempt to put some humanity into what was effectively a corporate necropolis.

                Eventually, the room filled with smoke, and Gabriel Reyes was soon sitting at the table.

                **_“Hello, Sombra.”_**

“Hello, Gabriel.”

                The man she knew as Reaper professionally, and Gabe unprofessionally sat upright in his chair, his hood up, casting shadows over his scarred features.  The lighting in the room had been specially designed to shadow his face unless he needed to lean in and make a dramatic statement.

                **_“Sombra, what would you say the nature of our relationship is?”_**

“Co-workers.  Professionals. Friends, on a good day.”

                **_“Is that all, Sombra?”_**

She turned pink.

                “Well…it’s all we’re officially…”

                **_“So let’s talk unofficially.  Let’s be frank.  You seemed more interested in me than the stew.”_**

Sombra bit her lip and said nothing.

                **_“Sombra, you do realize that you’re essentially in love with a corpse?  A corpse that’s 30 years older than you?”_**

“Twenty at most!”

                **_“…you mean you’re not 19?”_**

“I’m 30!”

                Reyes let his jaw drop a little.

                **_“Have you figured out how to hack aging or something?  Because seriously, you look almost fresh out of high school.”_**

He coughed.

                **_“Look, anyway, the matter at hand…I…I know I don’t say this often, but I am grateful for what you’ve been doing for me.  For my part, I try to not get too attached.  I had someone from my old days in Blackwatch on a mission last week with me.  Junkrat blew him up.  He said he’d follow me into hell if he had to.  Now, he probably has and I sadly can’t be with him because I can’t die.”_**

“I have a question, Gabe.”

                **_“Go ahead.”_**

“Why do you pretend to be tough when you really do have a heart?”

                She swore she could see Gabriel smirking in the shadows.

                **_“The same reason you hide behind a codename and a punk haircut.”_**

“Which is?”

                A dark laugh filled the room, making Sombra tremble involuntarily.

                **_“Because we both know the world is full of people worse than us.  These people, if they sense weakness, will torture you until there’s nothing left but what THEY want.  I know this, because I’ve seen it happen.”_**

“Widowmaker…”

                **_“Bingo, senorita.  You never did learn what they did to her to make her…that, did you?”_**

“No…”

                **_“Did she ever tell you she used to be afraid of spiders?”_**

“Once, I think.”

                Gabriel leaned into the light.

                **_“She wasn’t a willing recruit, like you or I.  She was a nice, sweet homemaker who had a husband in Overwatch.  And she was deathly afraid of spiders as a little girl.  So, when they took her…they crammed her into a glass tube, and put her in a room full of thousands of spiders.  They told her every morning that if she said yes to working for them, they’d stop it.  But Amelie, you see, she was tough.  She was very proud of who she was.  She loved her husband.  So she kept hanging on in hope that he’d come save her.  That Jack would find out where she was and send him.  That maybe an Overwatch strike team would come in suddenly and free her.”_**

“And they never did.”

                **_“Never.  Hope, Sombra, is a mistake.  But Amelie…she was full of hope.  And so, she kept saying no.  And that’s when they’d open the tube and have the spiders swarm over her.  Thousands of legs, just crawling, fangs close to her skin, hairs and webs tangling all over her.  She kept hanging onto that hope, even as her worst nightmare was drowning her.  They would do that every single day.”_**

Sombra gagged.

                **_“And then one day,”_** he continued, **_“she broke.  She said yes. They took her out of the tube, drugged her, and when she woke up she was a deathly purple, vengeance in her eyes, and any trace of love that was evident on the surface was replaced by hatred.  The next morning, she blew her husband’s brains out.  But do you want to know the really cruel irony?”_**

“W-what?”

                **_“The spiders wouldn’t have hurt her.  She’d been sprayed with something to pacify them, and they were drugged too.  She was too valuable to kill.”_**

“But her fear…”

                **_“Fear kills everything.  Especially hope.  And I, Sombra…am fear.”_**

Sombra looked up.

                “Gabriel…that’s…horrible…but that last part?  The ‘I am fear’ thing?  That sort of Xbox LIVE gamertag crap is why Tracer mocks you.  I was watching this D.Va stream the other night and she totally--”

                It was then that Sombra began retching and falling to the ground.

                In an instant, Reyes was at her side.

**_“Sombra!  Speak to me!”_ **

He lifted her up slowly, looking at her mouth to make sure she wasn’t choking on anything.

                It was a trauma response, he realized.  Something about her past. He’d seen similar reactions in Blackwatch members who’d been working too long.  This was why he had turned on Overwatch.  It sickened him, knowing that a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites would get the spotlight, and the pain and suffering of the black ops soldiers who made it possible for the living Saturday morning cartoon characters to do their jobs would be left in the shadows to die in agony.

                “G-Gabriel…leave me…I’m being weak…”

                **_“Like hell I’m leaving you…”_**

He noticed her vomit was running clear.

                **_“Sombra.  When did you last eat?”_**

“…three days ago.”

                **_“Get in that chair and eat.  You may be part machine, but that’s not going to keep you running.  There’s a box of crackers in the cupboard over there, too. Eat slowly.  I’ll be here if anything more happens.  I would get Moira to help—“_**

“…but you don’t entirely trust her.”

                **_“No.  I don’t.  I mean…her attempt at fixing me left me still falling apart.  If neither she nor Mercy could patch me up, then I’d hate to see what she’d do for stress.  I know Talon doesn’t really –do- compassion, but a medic is supposed to patch people up, not play mad scientist.”_**

                Sombra felt herself take a sleeve of crackers from the box and slowly begin to eat. Her body shook and trembled. Reaper slid over a glass of water.

                **_“Stay hydrated. You’re not well.”_**

“Heh…didn’t know you cared…Gabe…”

                Reaper sighed softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

                **_“You’re my responsibility. You’re my teammate. I don’t leave anyone behind. Ever.”_**

Sombra, half-delirious, sat up and pressed a kiss to Reaper’s lips.

                “Thank you, Gabe…tomorrow, let’s go crash the opening of that shitty _Reaper_ movie. I can’t wait to see that son of a bitch Illin’ Dan begging.”

                **_“Heh. We’ll do that. Just one thing, Sombra.”_**

“Anything…” she muttered, softly.

                **_“Don’t call me Gabe,”_** he said, chuckling softly.

                Sombra did end up collapsing from exhaustion, but she was taken immediately to the medbay, where Reaper refused to leave her side. Moira had wanted to “fix” her, but Reaper simply showed his face as a reminder to her to keep her mad science kit to herself.

                Sombra’s last sight was a smiling Reaper, watching patiently over her.

                Fade to black.

****


End file.
